


Heart of a Saint, Life of a Sinner

by H0neySuckle7



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bobby is a legend, Cough cough language, Cuddling, Depression, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, I hate tags oh my god, I really hope that means kid Winchester’s and not incest, John Winchester - Freeform, Kid Fic, Pre-Series, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Protective Dean, Protective Dean Winchester, Sad Sam Winchester, Sam Winchester-centric, Snuggling, Suicidal Thoughts, Supernatural - Freeform, Teen for language, Wee!chesters, Weechesters, and kinda ooc tbh, and v briefly, bad language, but he’s only mentioned briefly, father figure bobby singer, he loves his kids but cmon, just read the story, my writing is kinda strange, please, sammy winchester - Freeform, seriously no ones fucking with Sammy, sorta - Freeform, there’s like two cuss words lol, ummmm, what an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 06:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19329097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H0neySuckle7/pseuds/H0neySuckle7
Summary: “It’s not safe anymore dad!”“Dean your overreacting—““It’s dangerous and I’m scared!” Deans voice is shaky, and he sounds like he’s been crying. “I’m so fucking scared.” He says quieter.Sam doesn’t go to Stanford.





	Heart of a Saint, Life of a Sinner

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I’m so glad I had the chance to make this. It’s literally *checks* 3:48 and I’m tired af but I’m running on adrenaline lmao. ANYWAY I just wanted to mention (in case you didn’t read the tags) that there’s going to be heavy mentions of depression and slight mentions of suicidal thoughts. I hope you enjoyyyyyy :P 
> 
> Also posted on Wattpad under YellowDistress, with cover picture

Sams eyes were burning and his hands were shaking. His dad stared back, unflinching. 

For a second, a small almost insignificant second, Sam was ready. Ready to walk out. 

_"If you walk out that door, don't come back"_

He thinks in another life, he would've walked out, his dads words only spurring him on. 

But. 

He could see Dean in the corner of his eye, rigid. Waiting for everything to fall apart, Sam realized. 

And he couldn't. 

He couldn't do it. He tightened his fist a little further, crumpled the paper a little more.

He could hear his dad leave if the slamming door downstairs was any indication. By the time Dean came into the small room Sam was already playing sleeping brother. 

That night Sam didn't go to sleep. When the sun started to rise and the birds started singing Sam didn't think he was the same. He didn't think he wanted to be.  


They were walking on eggshells, Sam thought. 

He could see the small glances his way, both from John and Dean. Deans incessant tapping, his tick. 

John told him they'd be leaving before the graduation ceremony. 

"I know" he said quietly. He'd known even before he'd crumpled up that paper, known he'd have to get out, have to go before they'd had the chance to cut that part of his life off. 

He had stayed anyway. 

Dean looked up sharply, glanced between him and his dad. Sam looked back. 

_'What?'_ He thought. Dean had obviously gotten the message, but he couldn't seem to answer. He just... sat there wide eyed and parted lips. Sam faintly wondered if he was even breathing. 

John was looking at him too. At first he waited another second, probably expecting a fight, but then he'd leaned back, tilted his head up slightly. "Ok then" it was soft, a little confused. 

"You don't want to stay?" Dean asked quickly before he conversation faded. 

"He said it's fine." John said sharply. 

Well. He didn't but okay. 

Dean the little soldier (Sam knows it's not his fault) nods slowly. He looks a little sick as he looks at Sam. So Sam excuses himself. 

 

When he and Dean are packing to leave he picks up his books. 

He can see Dean looking at him, trying not to be obvious. Sam swallows and blinks at them. It was almost too easy to throw them out. 

Dean fights him on it. Says Sam likes the books. 'Liked' Sam corrects him. It makes deans anger flare up a little, and he goes to take the books with them. 

"Dean—" Sam says again. "They're your books" he fights weakly, voice small. 

"They were" Sam agrees. 

It worries Dean Sam can tell. He stands a little closer, looks a little longer, pushes a little harder. 

"You're losing weight" He says "you sleep more" "you talk less". 

The next cheap motel they stop at Sam merely drops his duffel inside. It's only two days before Deans looked around the room, assessing what's wrong, before he understands. 

Possessions that never failed to litter the room were now glaringly absent. School books and pencils, small toys and items Sam collected over the years even though their dad was convinced they took space, shoes places by the door, sometimes even clothes he hadn't even worn yet for no reason other than making it more homey. Sams way of making each place feel a little more like home. Dean found he hated the plain room, hadn't realized how comforting they were until they were gone. 

Nothing hurt more than the way it did when Dean realized Sam had given up making any place a home. 

He's better on hunts. More focused. 

"See, I _knew_ if you focused on the hunt you'd improve" 

There was a sick feeling in his stomach, like when you think about something particularly sad and horrifying in equal parts. Dean looked angry, clenching his jaw, but he was silent. 

"Thank you sir" he responds. His voice is monotonous but his dad doesn't notice. 

Sam doesn't think he'd wanted praise any less then he had in that moment. 

He gets nightmares. Sometimes they're not even related to college. Just, dreams. Him dying, Dean dying. Both in horrific ways. 

But sometimes in those dreams of him dying, it's peaceful almost. He's with Dean, he's smiling they both are. And it's quick, like when you dream of falling and wake up in a burst. 

It's unfortunate he wakes up before he can see where it goes. 

After that his hunts turn sour. There's unnecessary sacrifice plays, offering himself as bait when they would usually just track it down and kill it, cutting too close diversions. 

Deans the first to notice. God, he always is. 

When they don't think he can hear, they fight. The last time Deans raised his voice to his father was when Sam was 13 and dean was 17. It had also been about Sam, their dad had gotten Sam hurt in a hunt and Sam was put in the hospital. Dean never left his side. 

"It's not safe anymore dad! He just doesn't care!"

"Dean you're overreacting—" 

"It's dangerous and I'm scared!" Deans voice is shaky, and he sounds like he's been crying. "I'm so fucking scared" he says quieter. 

Eventually he comes up the stairs to their room. He stands by the door for a bit. "Sammy?" He calls out. 

He hums, because no way he's letting his brother go to sleep like this, ignore him like this, no matter how empty he's feeling. 

He feels a hand on his forehead. "You're warm" he murmurs. Sam leans into it and hums again. 

Dean brushed a hand through Sams hair and pauses. Sam knows he wants to say something, so he doesn't push him. 

"Can I sleep here tonight?" He asks vulnerably. Which is strange in itself because Dean hates asking for things, hates 'chick flic moments'. Sam knows he's talking about the bed and not the room, so he scoots over. 

It takes a second, but Dean wraps his arms around him and despite Sams height, he lays his head in his chest, something they haven't done in at least three years. 

Sam wants to mention the sudden lack of curiosity (although Deans probably already noticed that, he never wonders about things anymore), about his sudden lack of fight (maybe guessed that too, he never questions their dad anymore, acting more like Dean than Sam). But he never does. His voice freezes up and his eyes water, like something is crushing his throat in its hands to stop the words from leaking through. He wants to talk about The Empty. 

He hates The Empty. The space in his mind where everything is blank. His previous yearning for knowledge, his passion for it even, that space in his mind was taken over by The Empty. It sucks all the feeling, good and bad, and replaces it with apathy. Sam doesn't think he'd care about anything, probably let himself freeze to death before gaining the will to try and survive. Except Dean, because nothing, nothing could stop him from caring about Dean. 

So energy previously reserved for school, homework, was now for hunts and Dean alone. 

Dean had tried to get him passionate for stuff again "there's some great gals at the bar across the street" "you will not believe the amount of rabbit food at the diner in this town it's crazy" "Cmon one game of pool it'll be fun!" Sam was never as enthusiastic. 

Dean would get upset. He'd say that Sam "couldn't keep doing this" that "it wasn't healthy". Sometimes he'd scream at him, he'd yell at him, even shove him. "Just do fucking something Sam you can't do this to yourself!" 

Dean didn't think his sudden selflessness was a good thing. 

"He's not taking care of himself" he'd tell their dad. And eventually he started listening. 

Maybe it was the fact that Sam was now only inches shorter then dean but still thinner, paler. Dean could fit his hand around his wrist (which was helpful for when he needed the comfort of just knowing that Sam wasn't going anywhere, but never failed to make him crumple when he saw just how well his fingers slid around the bones.) maybe it was his complete lack of enthusiasm or disobedience. Maybe it was the way Sam spaces off and couldn't recall what they'd been talking about for the past ten minutes. 

In the end it was his eyes. Everyone used to describe them as a force to be reckoned with. His father was pretty sure Sam had practiced and perfected the hit puppy dog look. Dean knew he'd never needed to practice it. The bright green became dark and dull. He'd never needed to use the look again, he never wanted anything. 

So their father watches closer, Dean watches closer. But by then it's too late. The next hunt Sam is just a little less careful, a little less watchful. He gets hurt, badly. 

"Dad, oh my god he's losing so much blood. Sammy, Hey Sammy, look at me don't fall asleep. Don't you dare—" Sam remember his voice sounding panicky and high pitched, like a dying animal. And despite everything, despite his brothers voice, he lets himself fade. 

When he wakes up in the hospital, he can't help but feel disappointed. Their dad doesn't notice, but he thinks dean does. 

Later when their dad goes home to get some rest Dean leans in. "I think you should think about going to school again" he says. His hands are shaking, and so are Sams. 

"It's not the same" Sam whispers back. 

"How?" Dean demands, but it isn't angry, he just sounds desperate.

"I don't want to" Sam replies emotionless, aware of the truth in the statement. Dean lets his head fall into Sams lap and he's trembling from the silent sobs. 

"How can we fix this?" Dean bargains, 'the third stage of grief' Sams head supplies. 

Sam doesn't respond. 

If Sam could want anything, it would be for Dean. He wishes he could want things for Dean, make it so Dean isn't so scared for him. Because Sam falling apart is tearing dean apart too. Sam thinks it would be better if he had just left, for all of them. 

When he gets out of the hospital their dad is driving stone faced. He mentioned briefly that they were driving to Bobby's (Sam knows he must really be terrified if he's turning back up there for them). 

Sam falls asleep in the car twice on their way to Sioux Falls. When they get their he's blinking blearily at Bobby who they apparently forgot to call, because he's looking surprised and their father curses quietly. 

"I'll go talk to him" John says to them, a silent order to stay in the car. They both listen without complaint. 

Deans looking at him through the rear view mirror and their father must've mentioned him. Excuse Bobby is looking in the back seat with barely contained concern. They talk a little more, and Sam can't hear them but he sees them making hand gestures occasionally to one another before Bobby nods his head to John and John beckons them out. 

Dean gets out quickly enough to glue himself to Sams side even before Sams stepping out. Sam can't feel any irritation though, only affection. 

That's all Sam can really be feeling for dean anymore though, that and regret alongside heartbreaking sympathy. 

Bobby must notice a change just in how he looks because he's already giving side glances to Dean in question. Dean clenches his jaw like he always does when upset, and marches on forward, Sams wrist once again in Deans hand. 

It's days later when in the rare moment that deans away (very rare moment) that Bobby comes and sits beside him in the porch. 

He heaved in a sigh and Sam tilts towards Bobby slightly. 

"Your brothers worried" he says looking straight. 

"Yeah" 

"You know I've always supported your decision when it comes to school, but is it really worth all of" he gestured "this". 

"He didn't take school" Sam says. 

"What did he take then?" Bobby's looking like Dean usually does now, the strange look he can't place but knows isn't good. 

Sam doesn't reply at first, let's himself close his eyes and think about what he could've had. 

"Hope." He says. 

Bobby's expression crumbles and in the long time they've known each other he places his hands on Sams face for the first time since he was a kid before bringing him into a hug. 

He knows it must be bad then. 

Dean comes out and his expression wavers. Maybe he knows it's bad too. 

He also knows that for how little their dad shows it, he does care. Because during one of the nights at Bobby's he's come downstairs to see John drinking and upon further inspection, looking at a picture of Mary. "God what have I done wrong?" He asks. He sounds like he's been crying. Sam could make a list in all honesty, but he doesn't make a noise. "All I've ever wanted was for them to be safe" and though Sam knows it rings true, he can't help but feel a sharp stab of resentment. 

'Then why do you push me out into battle every day!’ He thinks ‘why do you risk me so easily?’

He walks back upstairs, throat dry, and sees Dean looking around wildly before he sees Sam. Sam wonders just how bad it's gotten for Dean to be so scared of Sam leaving for such a short amount of time. 

"There's a quote, by Benjamin Franklin" Sam says one day, out of the blue. 

"Yeah?" Dean asks. 

"Mm" Sam affirms, But doesn't continue further. 

"What was it?" Dean asks twisting to meet his eyes. 

_"They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety."_ His voice is calm when he says it and he can see Dean tensing up. 

"I think" Sam continues "this is why I lost both" his voice isn't accusing, if anything it's self degrading, true belief in not deserving either. 

Dean can't respond, he doesn't know how. 

It's not a week later when Dean confront their dad, Sam still in the room. 

"Dad" He starts quietly, strongly. Their dad looks up briefly but looks back down at the newspaper, deaths circled in red. _"Dad"_ dean repeats stronger still. 

"Im listening" John says. 

Deans jaw clenches. He's angry. "We can't" and it seems like he's dancing around the subject, not backing down but not really ready to fully face it either. 

"Can't?" Their dad asks. 

"Hunt" at that both heads turn to give dean their full attention. 

"What do you mean? Do you want to sit this one out?" 

"No dad. Me and Sam—we're out." He repeats. 

"Stop messing around dean" he turns back to the paper. 

Dean slams his fist onto the table leaving a quiet in its wake. _"Im not"_ his voice is venomous this time, no mistaking its meaning. 

"Sit down or I'll make you sit down" their dad orders, full attention and narrowed eyes. 

"We're not doing this anymore. I'm not gunna lose Sam because we lost mom." And that makes even Sam feel shock, because deans never, _never_ even mentioned their mom, not so much as a whisper. Never so blatantly refused to do the thing they fought for, hunted for, hell—practically lived for. 

Their dads standing slowly now but Dean isn't backing down. "If you can't give that up for Sam, for your kid whose so obviously fucking _disintegrating_ in front of you then we leave—without you."

Again, something so uncharacteristic of Dean, making ultimatums, so undoubtedly disobeying their father. Even their dad seemed frozen. But Dean was looking at him with determination in his words and steel in his eyes. 

"So, what you'd just give up everything we worked for? Back out on saving people, on your _mother?"_ He asks with fire. 

"For Sam? _Always."_ He replies with ice. 

That night Deans packing quickly, their father is yelling and everything is a blur. Dean grabs both Sams and his own bags and bolts out, Sam in tow. 

Sams looking at him in disbelief as they drive away (Dean had taken the impala they'd practically grown up in because like hell he was going to leave it with their dad) and Deans going well over the speed limit. 

When they do stop back in Sioux Falls for the second time that month, Bobby waiting on the steps, Dean pulls Sam in for a hug. "We're gunna be okay" he comforts like he used to—in a crappy motel, only him and Dean, Dean holding him and rocking "we're gunna be okay"—"I'm gunna fix this." 

Sam always believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeahhhh So didn’t really turn out how I thought but still! Glad I finally got a story finished, I tend to procrastinate. Anyway, I’ll be releasing a story on Harry Potter (maybe another supernatural short story, Sam centric obv) if anyone’s interested, I don’t know when (probably not for a while) but in case your interested it’s coming! ❤️
> 
> *will also be on Wattpad under YellowDistress with cover picture


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